Luyện nghe bài hát Rock Drill/Iron Ration

It took us time as it's taking up yours
- we had the furnace, the and the ore.
But as things stood, we needed a
I consider the Pope, I you.
But the Pope ain't got enough for me
and he drives no 603.
So beat is Stef-f, Real Raz the chorus
Bass needs Pon-X, needs Humble Boris
Sound is OMNITRON, the walls of
- No 98-Olds, no
But the Trans-Siberian funk railroad,
the sure-win toad eat toad.
The funny-peculiar station,
the strip-mining district and the Ration:

An I for an I at the rate of exchange;
reduction, another target in range.
Burning - what a smell!
Silly goat - my hell?
Got no soul - what to
The better hand the upper few as it seems
the alarm clock punched the jaw of my dreams
Dog eat hot dog the loss but made no bids
and the sweets their taste in the mouths of the well-behaved kids.

Laughter and
and rejoice
The around.
often than less
we drink to
The pulls us down.

Honk if you the Saviour, sing him a song.
If the leopards sing to the bones, they just sing along?
Burning love - a smell!
goat - where's my hell?
Got no soul - what to
Can we have more in him than in publicity drives?
or should science fill our heads as it fills our

The Coming in a second or maybe too late, or
another seeking another creator.
There are so futures that we may have to live in
- the past be given.

and noise
drink and
The around.
rise
to our lives
we drown.

Honk if you to bonk up the honky tonk teenies.
Industrial history offers pretty good sceneries.
Buffalo soldiers, splice your tapes and
for the scorched earth has us all up for a ride.

The second COMECON in romper and felt-pen moustache;
stone-faced ancestors up by hustlers.
Unlike the little and crooks who die in the telly
our will be smelly.